Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ When It Rains, It Pours ❯ Midori Memory [Omi] ( Chapter 2 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Disclaimer: I dun own these people! @-x My muses are just so darned promiscuous…

Midori Memory [Omi]
By Koyuki Aode

Yamamotoyama.

My most frequent brand. Green tea. It tastes just as it is scented. Ocha wa oishii desu ne. Spiraling wildly in my mug, I plop the bag continuously up and down, causing the upstir of bright yellow-green coloring to spread through the hot water. Is this the essence of Japan? A small pile of dirt crammed into a packet of immaculate dust, meant to give off the eloquent feel and attitude of zen-like serenity. A feeble, but expedient adventure into the inane. And sometimes, it's worth it, even if you do burn your tongue.

Outside, it rains anew. I can imagine the ambrosial scent of the streets, lacking pedestrians, cars, bothersome people, all for the few moments of peace in the rhythmic din of translucent pearls. I'd be out there myself, if not for the complacent duty of this flower shop. It's warm in here, and I am alone. Alone with my flowers, thoughts, and tea.

So, what does it remind me of this time? I peer into my cup, and carefully tug the string of the teabag, using momentum to cause a minimal amount of spill. Pale green, barely midori, scarcely yellow. A faded neon, perhaps, in the hopes of sparking some realism into my relaxation. Reality always makes us feel better, doesn't it? Now it reminds me of a dead lime. I'm sure of it.

The bitter spice invades my calm senses, and brings me into a setting of trees. It's nothing lush, this vision, nothing beautiful or extravagent. And it certainly isn't green. It feels tainted, like an overhandled photograph. Sepia. Gosh, I'm getting ripped off for this bagged tea. But it doesn't stop me from bringing the cup to my lips.

The water's still hot, and my hand tips the cup slowly. Steam eats away at my vision, and I can't help indulging in the memory.

~~

It's autumn.

"Nii-chan!! Nii-chan!!"

Joyful laughter fills the air, and leaves, so many vibrant colors, of burgundy, tangerine, chestnut, and gold, all bless me fleetingly with numerous, nimble kisses.

Gods, of all of my memories, why do the happiest ones choose to haunt me? They are supposed to be dead.

My... brother. My brother Hirofumi stands smiling at me, watching me. A small glitter of sentiment showing in his eyes. He would soon leave for school, to study away from home. Away from me.

"Do you really have to go away?" I attach myself stubbornly to his leg, not wanting him to depart any time soon. "I don't want you to!"

"I have to! It's only school, Mamoru, I'll be back. Besides, you have Masafumi to watch over you." Masafumi. I don't like playing with him. He always plays weird games. Hirofumi taught me how to be smart with his games.

I hug my eldest brother snugly, and look up at him, allowing all of my hidden admiration for him surface in my eyes. "I want you to stay, Nii-chan. I only want to play with you!"

"Don't you worry, Mamoru, you'll be ok until I get back."

*

Silence follows his words, and I'm rooted in the forest, as it displaces into the abundant killing grounds of helpless teenagers. My brother was in charge of it. I was sent to stop him.

"Mamoru?! I thought you were dead!"

My brother.

"Boku no nii-san... datta."

~~

At first, I feel numb, but the physical world hauls me back when the biting sting of spilled tea sears onto my knees. On instinct, I've jumped to my feet, scooting my chair three feet away from the table, where the cup lays pathetically beneath it. Most of what has burnt my legs is puddled neatly on the floor, with additive beads plopping methodically from above. Groaning, I rub the paling liquid from my dripping extremities with the sleeve of my sweater. Of course, only an idiot like myself would wear shorts while it's raining. As I reach down for the cup, the lack of sound from outside catches my attention, and I see the threat of sun fighting with the clouds. No more rain.

A drop of cold liquid reaches my finger, and I unconsciously lick it up with my tongue. Bitter.

"Bitterweet." The reflection in the puddle smiles up at me.

I blink twice and look back at my own stained image. He wouldn't dare. The flash, the small instant of interruption causes it to ripple.

"Oh yes I would." All I see is his smirk. Delving into my essence, into my past. Ruining the one moment I might've had alone. "A memory is always worth it."

"Schuldich." He can't be far. The dull ache he causes in my heart has been incited intentionally. With ease, my hand produces a small pencil, scrawling three kanji onto the table as I leave. ~Business. Omi.~

Turning the cap on my head in the right direction, my lungs fill with a determined breath, and the door pushes out of my way.

Maybe it will rain again.